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A life & style blog written by Bash Harry, a 21 year old perfectionist with little to say but much to do. Let's talk beauty, fashion and intersectional feminism.

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Words In Books I'll Never Write 03

Wednesday, 7 June 2017

Oh, this is a trilogy I see.

I've been writing more this year, I note.

I flip through the pages of my book. Ink-stained fingers, blue and black. I smile to myself, recalling each reason I wrote each word. Most snippets were crap, these were feasible. Feasible enough for me to publish.

So here is another edition of Words in Books I'll Never Write...

0 1 . m y m u s i c m a n .

You recoiled at the name coined. I had just called you My Music Man after our weekly quarrel by the beach. The winds breezed through us, hiding your laughter.

"Really?" You raised an eyebrow then looked back at the sea. "Very on the nose of you."

But I loved it.

"It suits you." I said, nudging you lightly. "You play music and you are my man."

You let out a sigh. I assumed to be a chuckle but masked sadness neither was aware then. Unbeknownst to us that day years ago. I watch you pluck the guitar strings, my head on your shoulder. In comfortable silence, I found peace. Beside you by the bay.

Yet the Music Man still played his song of woe. I wondered why, but now we both know.

- 16th June 2016, 8:21pm

0 2 . p a g e s .

Some boys barely filled a chapter in my story. He inspired a whole book.

- 9th March 2017, 01:12am

0 3 . d a r k - e y e d g i r l s .

"You've got beautiful eyes."

"They're just brown," I scoff, "Nothing special about them."

He disagrees.

"I've always said..." He starts, propping himself against the chair. He points a slim finger in the air. Ready to state as if it need be stated. I watch him carefully, ready to roll my eyes. "Beautiful girls have dark eyes. So dark, I can see the whites of my own eyes.”

He looks at me and smiles.

"And you have the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen."

- 3rd March 2017, 00:11am

0 4 . a l i t t l e p r a y e r .

gets down on both knees,

her hands clasped together.

lips parted, no words spoken.

prays to no god, she still worships him.

dying for his love and affection

never realising she was a temporary distraction.

- 6th May 2017, 09:37pm

Inspiration comes in waves. Washing away as quickly as it rises. I wonder when this wave of inspiration will wash away. For now, I will continue to write so long as I let myself.